


Welcome Home

by 3H_W



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - After College/University, Alternate Universe - Game of Thrones Fusion, Angst, Broken Hearts, Eventual Arya Stark/Gendry Waters, F/M, Guilt, Misunderstandings, Older Arya, Organized Crime, reconnection
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-04
Updated: 2017-06-04
Packaged: 2018-11-09 01:11:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11093784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/3H_W/pseuds/3H_W
Summary: Five years had passed since she had seen Gendry. Since, she ran away. After all he had done for her, she left in the dead of night without so much as a goodbye.  What choice did she have though? Arya grew fond of Gendry, and he broke her heart.





	Welcome Home

She heard the neighbor's wind chimes again, ringing in the night breeze, disrupting the sleep she desperately needed. The sound never failed to bring up old memories; of foggy summer mornings and picking apples before rushing to school. She thought of an old caretaker’s house with a roof that leaked every timed it rained, and she remembered sipping coffee on a front porch swing. Arya tossed and turned, listening to the chimes until sleep overcame consciousness. Her dreams were of hanging white sheets from an old clothes line, the crunch of dead grass beneath her feet, and of _blue_ eyes.

The following morning, Arya woke feeling unbearably somber. Unwanted tears stung at her eyes, blurring what could be seen in her dim room. Sitting upright, she glanced around the room dragging the backs of her hands across her cheeks. The corners of the room were shadowed in ominousness way, like phantoms would crawl out from the darkness at any moment. Old school books, from her accounting courses, were stacked beside her bed, as some sort of make-shift night stand.There were no pictures adorning the white walls, not that she had any, or rugs lain out on the floor. All that was in her room, was a lone mattress on the floor and an old sheet with a floral print pinned over the window. _Stark_ , she thought. Her name truly suited who she was.

Or who she became.

Growing up, at Winterfell, her attic bedroom was so full of personality and life. It breathed. A twin bed with a wrought iron frame was pressed into the corner of the room and the covers rumpled, half off the mattress. When walked upon, the old plank wood floors creaked and tacked on navy blue walls was a wolf poster her brother gifted her, for her ninth birthday. There was clothes, dirty and clean alike, strewn across her floors. More articles of clothing draped from dresser drawers as if trying to escape. Her mother hated the mess, but her desk area had been organized and above it, as shelve full of trinkets.

When she lived with Gendry in the Stormlands, he went to great lengths to keep her comfortable and productive. He bought her a queen bed, and let her pick out blue paint that was the exact same color as her bedroom at Winterfell. This had been on the condition that she return to school, and at thirteen years old it had been an easy compromise. She got a navy blue room that reminded her of home, while Gendry had to fork out the cash to buy a bucket of paint. In the following months, they went to thrift stores and yard sells collecting a desk, night stands, a dresser, and a beautiful antique bed frame. She smiled to herself remembering the weekend it took to strip and sand down the ugly pink paint.

Gendry had been her closest friend, but even more so a protecter. He took care of her, a young runaway, when he could barely afford to care for himself. He had given her a room to sleep, and kept her fed. He was the pseudo-brother she needed to get through the deaths of her father, mother and brother, Robb. And though their _murders_ sparked a desire for vengeance, he convinced her that the best thing she could do was go back to high school. Despite wanting the Lannister’s held accountable for the destruction of her family, Arya listened to Gendry.

After all, what could a thirteen year old do do exact revenge on a criminal political family?

By the time she turned sixteen, her need for retribution dulled. The respect and love she had for Gendry far outweighed her vengefulness. The domestic life she lived with him seemed enough. At seventeen, she graduated from high school with honors, and an acceptance to several universities including North University. The university was in the same town she grew up in. It was almost a calling for her to return home, but Arya couldn't force herself to leave the Stormlands. Much to Gendry’s disapproval she deferred her admission, spending the next year and a half helping him run Stormsend Farm.

The two hundred acre apple far was bequeathed to Gendry upon his eighteenth birthday, from his estranged father, Robert Baratheon. A man her father coincidently knew in his college years. A man who had unfortunately been married to Cersei Lannister. Being fresh out of the foster care system, and without prospects, Gendry inherited Stormsend with great reluctance. He _hated_ the farm, or so he told her.

From the moment Arya met him, he claimed he had every intention of selling Stormsend. He thought the money made could be used to send each of them to college.  During her darkest moments, when she missed her home and her family, he held her and promised he would one day buy Winterfell back for her. It was a silly promise he made to a crestfallen fourteen year old, but Arya made the assumption that he would keep his promise. He had always been honest.

For six years, she lived with Gendry. And for six years, she held onto her dream of _home._ All Gendry's energy went into the orchards he supposedly hated, and as each year passed, she fell in love with him more than the previous year. It appeared he would do whatever it took to give her back her home. In the winter, he woke early to prune the trees, and stayed up late studying the different needs for each species of apple tree. In the spring, she helped pick apples until she needed to head to school. As tired as Gendry seemed, she noticed he found such joy in picking a bushel of apples every morning and spending Saturday mornings selling produce at the farmer's market. He had such determination to make Stormsend worth something.

All his handwork seemed to have payed off when there was a substantial offer to purchase the farm, but Gendry refused. He went back on his word, and became a liar in Arya's eyes. A liar who denied her, her home, and refused to see her as anything more than a little girl.

Five years had passed since she had seen Gendry. Since, she ran away. Five years of wandering and self-loathing. After all he had done for her, she left in the dead of night without so much as a goodbye.

What choice did she have though?

Arya grew fond of Gendry, and he broke he heart.

 

**Author's Note:**

> The intention was that this would be a stand alone chapter but, I found out there's much more to the story. If there's enough interest it'll turn into a multi-chapter story. We must consider Arya claimed to leave for the promise he broke, but this isn't what he did to break her heart... This is my first story posted to Ao3, so please be patient with me as I try to navigate this site... This was mainly inspired by the song "Welcome Home" by Radical Face.


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